Astounding Science Fiction Stories: An Anthology of 350 Scifi Stories Volume 2 (Halcyon Classics)

by Various

  Mike motioned to the H'Lorkan, gesturing frantically. The other quickly understood. Mike picked Doree up and put her inside the dark opening. He followed her and moved her further inside away from the small opening.

  Then he looked out to find that the H'Lorkan had had difficulty with Nicko, but had found a way of grasping him so as not to get cut by the sharp scales. He pushed the little Martian's body in to Mike and followed quickly.

  Mike turned immediately to Doree and began examining her for injury. There was a small gash on her forehead and a bruise on her shoulder. She moaned and opened her eyes.

  Mike put a finger over her lips. "Be very quiet."

  "Where are we? What happened?"

  "The ship crashed," he whispered, "but we may be safe for a while."

  Doree smiled weakly. "I thought it was the end."

  "How do you feel?"

  "All right--I guess. Nothing seems to be broken."

  "Lie and rest." Mike turned and found Nicko was sitting up, his eyes open but still a trifle vacant. "You okay?"

  "Guess so. They couldn't kill me with a club but I get knocked out coming downstairs."

  "Something must have hit you on the head just right."

  "Something sure did. Tell me, what's the situation?"

  "I don't know. I'm playing it from hand to mouth. We're hidden under the ruins of the ship."

  "They'll be after us."

  "If they weren't killed." Mike found a small opening and peered out. Help had come from the city now and he saw a line of stretcher bearers moving away from the wreck. His spirits rose as he identified three of the casualties. McKee, Talbott, Katal'halee. Were any or all of them dead? He had no way of knowing. But at least they appeared to be past caring about the four prisoners--at least for a time.

  This did not insure safety however. The entrance to the improvised cave darkened and a face appeared. Mike held his breath, expecting challenge and exposure.

  But none came. Then Mike realized that dusk had fallen and the eyes of the searcher could not penetrate their hiding place with any degree of surety. There were sharp words in the alien tongue. Obviously the searcher was calling for any trapped or injured person.

  Desperately, Mike hoped he would let it go at that. But such was not the case. The man got down on his knees and pushed inside.

  He found himself taken instantly into the iron grasp of three desperate tenants. The H'Lorkan got him by the legs, Nicko hit him in the middle, and Mike got strong hands on his throat, drove powerful fingers into it, shutting off the man's breath forever.

  The man struggled helplessly for a few moments. Then he lay still as Mike snapped his neck suddenly backward and broke it.

  * * * * *

  The darkness served another purpose. It kept Doree from the horror of seeing a man killed not two feet from her eyes. But she realized what was happening and buried her face in her hands.

  "I'm sorry," Mike whispered. "But this is a matter of survival. Try and look at it in that light."

  There was nothing to do now but wait. Mike's hopes were slim and desperate ones--that the slain man would not be missed for a while, and that the wreckage of the ship would not be cleared away until the following day.

  The time dragged. Activity around the wreck dwindled and died out. Total darkness had not yet come and Mike prayed for a few more minutes of safety. But he was not to get it. A commotion over toward the city brought him to a break in the wreckage through which he could scan the area. A huge derrick-like affair, encrusted with the usual gold and gems, was lumbering toward the wrecked platform. A gang of workmen followed on foot. Incandescent balls were carried by another group, brightly illuminating the scene.

  "We've got to run for it!" Mike said. "Out--everybody! Run straight to the left! There's an airfield over there. McKee and Talbott's ship is on the far edge. I saw it just before we fell!"

  The four wormed their way out from under the wreckage. "That ship should be primed to go!" Nicko said with excitement.

  "That's what I'm hoping."

  "No!" Doree cried, and pulled away from Mike. "No! I won't go away from here and leave my father! We've got to try to help him!"

  * * * * *

  Mike did not hesitate. He swung a short solid right. It cracked against Doree's jaw and she went limp. "Sorry," he said grimly, "but this is no time to argue."

  "We're going to hit that ship and blast out?" Nicko asked.

  "What else? She'll hate me for it, but we've got to use common sense. There's nothing we can do for Professor Brandon this trip. Maybe we can come back later."

  "It will be hard on the kitty."

  "Okay," Mike retorted harshly. "My responsibility is getting Doree out of here alive!"

  "I'm not arguing," Nicko said. "Let's move."

  The H'Lorkan had remained silent the whole time. He had done what was expected of him promptly and efficiently and proven himself a good comrade. But there was no time now to explain the plan to him. If he had remained where he was they would probably have gone off and left him. But when they started across the open country, he ran with them.

  Mike momentarily expected the light from the glowing bulbs to pick them out, but luck was with them and they gained the edge of the airfield without being detected. They disappeared in among the craft. There was quite an assortment of these and from the design and variations in size, Mike got the impression they were pleasure craft and not a part of the fighting force. Encrusted jewels were used in profusion and decorations along with both silver and gold. On this planet these precious materials seemed to have little value as no guards were posted over the field.

  * * * * *

  There were lights in a few of them. These, Mike carefully skirted until the party came at last to the sleek black hull of the ship McKee and Talbott had arrived in.

  No sight ever gladdened his heart more than that of the great, competent-looking monster. The ramp was down and all was darkness inside.

  "Shall I go ahead and check?" Nicko asked.

  "It wouldn't help. If anyone's in there they'd probably nab you."

  "Maybe I don't nab as easily as you think," Nicko growled.

  "Anyhow, there isn't time. I think that crew spotted us when we entered the field. We've got to get in and away."

  "Once inside we can lock the hatches and hold them off until we blast."

  "You think so?" Mike asked. "With that funny fire ray they've got?"

  "Well, maybe they just won't see us then."

  "Let's hope not."

  Nicko went up the ramp first. Mike followed with Doree in his arms. The H'Lorkan warrior brought up the rear. Into the dark maw of the ship they went, where Nicko found a utility flashlight on its hook near the door to the companionway. He sent a beam on ahead. "Holy Mother Mars!" he croaked.

  The light flashed back off thousands of brilliant jewels almost blinding them. The companionway was strewn inches deep in multicolored gems.

  "That's about what I figured," Mike said. "Those two have been loading loot ever since they set down here. I'll bet every cabin's packed to the guards."

  This was true. As they moved through the ship it was like walking in the treasure house of a Neptunian robber baron. "There's well over a billion in here," Nicko marveled. "Whatever you say about our friends--they aren't small timers."

  "It will be a touchy job getting this ship off the ground," Mike said.

  Nicko grinned hideously. "Want to stop and throw a few tons overboard?"

  "There's no time or believe me, I would. Let's get to the control cabin.

  It was the one cabin in which no wealth was stored. In the place of jewels and bar-gold there was something else. It seemed McKee and Talbott had not been as negligent of their hoard as it had first appeared.

  The half-dozen native guards in the control room allowed the four to enter, standing close against the near wall. Then they fell upon them. Taken by surprise and attacked by a greater number, the fugitives had no chance. The H'Lorkan warrior
, last into the room, fought bravely, but when the lights were turned on, the prisoners had been swiftly cuffed and subdued.

  Doree had been jerked cruelly from Mike's arms and he saw a tall native warrior just disappearing through the door carrying her in his arms.

  Mike's shoulders slumped as he tasted the bitter dregs of defeat....

  * * * * *

  They were led through the city streets under heavy guard, streets brightly illuminated by myriad glowing balls. The populace eyed them curiously, their importance evidently indicated by the escort of a dozen grim soldiers.

  Only Mike and Nicko and M'Landa took the long walk up the avenue, Doree having been spirited away. Mike was a man in deep torment as he wondered helplessly about her fate. Was she already dead? Had she been made the plaything of some high official? Of McKee or Talbott or both? This last thought brought red rage flashing into his heart.

  They were taken into a huge, gloomy building and down a long corridor. As they approached it, a sound greatened before them; a rolling muted thunder of mixed anger, pain, and terror. They entered a long, narrow corridor, one wall broken at regular intervals by small metal doors. Mike realized the sound came from beyond these doors--from the angry throats of prisoners--that this could be nothing other than the city's prison. There was no doubt of it.

  The cavalcade stopped. One of the doors was unlocked and thrown open, the three pushed roughly inside. The door slammed, the lock was turned and the guards stalked away as they had come.

  The interior of the cell was very dim. Mike blinked his eyes, striving to pierce the dimness. He opened them and got a surprise. This was more of a cage than a prison. The entire wall opposite the door consisted of bars.

  The three went forward and stood in mute wonder at what they saw. The cells were elevated and ran in a circle around an amphitheater--a great lighted pit--so that the prisoners were spectators at the drama that went on below.

  It was indeed a strange place, this pit, its purpose temporarily obscure to the three prisoners. It contained great vats of steaming, multicolored liquids, many tables, a great number and variety of frames, racks, and instruments.

  There were perhaps a dozen men at work down there. They appeared to be making preparation for what was to follow. Mike wondered about their occupation, then turned sharply on Nicko.

  "What's the matter with you? Why aren't you finding out about this?"

  Nicko stared in amazement. "Me? How the devil can I--?"

  "The H'Lorkan. He might be able to give you some information. Ask him!"

  Nicko shuddered as though coming out of a daze. "Sure. I guess my wheels got kind of stopped."

  M'Landa, who never seemed to speak unless spoken to, answered Nicko's questions calmly. Mike watched the two as they conversed; saw Nicko's increasing indignation and horror. "All right!" Mike snapped. "Don't keep it to yourself. What did he say?"

  "Not much. Just that these are the high priests of the Ptomenties. They prepare the bodies of the dead for burial and their job is to make them look so life-like that you wouldn't even know they were dead. This is their experimental laboratory--where they keep their hands in. They experiment on the prisoners."

  As the chill went through Mike, he saw four guards who had been stationed on the far side of the pit acknowledge a sign from one of the priests and start toward a staircase leading to the prisoner's balcony.

  They stopped at one of the cells and unlocked a door set in the barred front. As they entered a roar of hatred went up from every cell in the dreadful circle.

  * * * * *

  As he watched, Mike was conscious of the fact that only he and Nicko were watching the proceedings, that M'Landa's face was not glued to the bars. The thing's too horrible for the H'Lorkan to take, Mike thought. He's crouching back there behind us--covering his face most likely. And I can't say I blame him.

  The guards came forth from the cell dragging a screaming victim, a tall naked speciman who bested even the Ptomenites in physical perfection. Here, Mike realized, was truly a man.

  The screams had been from rage, not from fear. As the door snapped behind him, the victim stopped screaming, evidently realizing this was the end, that escape was now impossible. He raised his head, a look of contempt lighting his handsome features. He walked proudly amidst the guards. He seemed completely indifferent to whatever fate awaited him.

  Mike stared as the man was led to the center of the pit. Chains were clamped to his wrists and ankles. Then the guards lifted him, holding him horizontal. One of the priests extended his arms upward, over the prone man, and seemed to be mouthing a prayer or incantation. He appeared to Mike to be asking some deity to accept this poor offering.

  This ceremony over, the guards walked with the helpless man toward a great vat of smoking purple liquid. But at this moment, Mike's attention was diverted. A door had opened far down the circle and two figures were approaching. As the guards lifted the unfortunate prisoner and threw him in the vat a great roar of fury went up from the circle of cells. And Mike recognized the approaching figures.

  McKee and Talbott.

  McKee was amply bandaged about the head and shoulders. Talbott appeared to have come off better, only his right wrist and elbow tightly wrapped.

  They moved past the cells until they were confronting Mike and Nicko. There they stopped. McKee, the fat one, grinned and glanced at his companion. "Dangerous looking specimens, aren't they?"

  Talbott wore a sneer. "Quite. The priests will have a lot of fun with the scaly creature. I understand they're already discussing him--eager to get their hands on him."

  Mike's rage tore at his own throat. He strove for control of his voice. "What have you swine done with Doree?"

  A look of disappointment came on Talbott's face. "I wanted her for--for other things, but I wasn't able to handle it. So she comes in here like the rest."

  "You mean they're going to throw her into that--?" the question was from Nicko as every scale on his body quivered.

  Mike saw that the prisoner below had now been removed from the vat. He had been laid on a table and one of the priests was advancing upon the body with a long shining needle in his hand. He pointed the needle very carefully at a place on the man's skull.

  "She's next, I understand," Talbott was saying easily. "She is in the other block. Only male prisoners on this side. They'll bring her in soon. It will be quite a show. Perhaps we'll stay to watch."

  Mike could control himself no longer. He flung himself against the bars like a wild beast. Even though in no danger, McKee drew back in alarm. He said, "The sooner that one's in the Hall of the Dead, the better."

  * * * * *

  Mike had been conscious of a hand touching his arm but he had paid no attention. Now, as the two Terrans turned to leave, he turned also, with tears of helpless anger welling in his eyes. It was M'Landa. The H'Lorkan spoke.

  "What's he saying?" Mike asked.

  As M'Landa spoke, a quick change came over Nicko. He whirled and stared back in to the cell. "He says there's another man in this cell with us. He's been talking to him. He's a Baserite."

  Now Mike saw the man sitting in a shadow against the wall. Two things had kept him from noticing before--the dim light and the incidents of terrible interest down in the pit. As they approached, the man got to his feet and spoke. Mike could not understand what he said, but he now knew the man thrown brutally into the vat of purple liquid had also been a Baserite. This man in the cell could have been his twin.

  "Are you able to understand him?" Mike asked Nicko.

  "Sure. He said he was watching us--trying to figure out whether we were spies?"

  "Spies! Spying on whom?"

  The questions and answers were going back and forth through Nicko. He asked the Baserite. The man said, "Upon me."

  "Who are you?"

  "I am Mertaan, a fighting Prince of Baser. I was taken from a Baserite ship."

  "Too bad, fellow. I'm sorry."

  "It was no accident. I arranged t
o be taken."

  "That hardly makes any sense."

  The man spoke through grim lips, his clear eyes blazing. "That's why I wondered about you--wondered if our plot was suspected. We can't take a chance."

  "Your plot?"

  "Yes. But I think you are genuine prisoners."

  Nicko translated and added, "You can be damned sure about that."

  "What plot are you talking about?" Mike asked.

  "Baser attacks the Ptomenites in force tonight."

  "I'm glad to hear that but I don't see how you can be much help in here."

  "This is one facet of the plan. We corrupted a scant few of the Ptomenite guards. They are our men."

  An odd thought struck Nicko. "We're glad to hear that too, but could you tell me something? With gold and jewels lying around on the ground what kind of bait lures a man on this planet."

  "Our women are the most beautiful and exciting females in existence," the Baserite said grimly.

  Nicko whistled and Mike snapped. "Quit taking up time with silly questions. We want to know more of this plot."

  Mertaan took a key from the front of his jacket. "There is one or more Baserites in every cell of this block. Each has a key that will unlock his cell. The Baserite war fleet comes over soon. When we hear the whine of the ships, we strike. Are you with us?"

  "We could hardly be with the Ptomenites."

  Mertaan eyed Nicko suspiciously. "Is the strange one also with us?"

  "Just wait and find out!" Nicko said.

  * * * * *

  The Baserite turned even grimmer of face. "I am taking no chances. This plan must work. My brother just died down there in their reeking vat--"

  Mike was astounded. "You mean you had a key? You could send the whole cell block to his rescue? But you let him die?"

  Ice glazed over the pain in the Baserite's eyes. "There is much more at stake here than one life. A nation. The time was not right. I had hoped my brother would be spared a few minutes longer but it was not to be."

  Mike marveled anew. Truly--these Baserites were men of iron will. "When?" Mike asked grimly.

  "Soon." Mertaan took a small, strange-looking weapon from his pocket. It resembled a pistol enough to be identified as such. "I wish I could offer you arms, but smuggling them in was very risky. What few we have are in the hands of picked warriors."